The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Terra

I stared up at the ceiling. It reminded me of the night Michael and I talked about the definition of making love. I rolled onto my stomach and turned my head to the side. It reminded me of how I encouraged him to spoon with me.

I took one of the pillows and put it between my knees and tried to get comfortable.

Instead of comfort, I felt like I was going to cry.

In the week that had passed since Michael and I broke up, I had slept little, eaten nothing and drank just enough alcohol to reduce the pain in my heart, mind and spirit enough that it dissipated to a dull thud. Nothing, however, seemed to make it disappear.

As much as I knew his disguising the truth led to the problems that caused our breakup, I couldn’t help but feel tremendous guilt for not telling him who I really was. Although I told myself the secret I was keeping from Michael was miniscule compared to his, I wondered what portion of the pain I felt was a result of my guilt for not being completely truthful.

Over and over I wished I had told him who I really was before I found out about his gun dealings. Now I would never have the chance, and the guilt was slowly killing me. If I learned nothing else through all of the pain, I learned the value in being truthful with the man I loved.

And I loved him deeply.

In the period of time we had been separated I realized that my love for Michael was real. The pain I felt was confirmation that my expression of my love while we were together had not been simply wishful thinking or a greedy desire.

Once in a lifetime love was real.

And he was gone.

A knock on the door startled me. I sat up on the bed, convinced myself it was something else, and almost immediately, it came again. I stepped off the edge of the bed, walked to the door, and peered out the peephole.

Michael stood outside my door. My throat constricted. My mouth went dry. I looked again. Instantly, the pain increased to an almost crippling roar.

“What did I tell you? Go away!”

“I want to apologize,” he said.

There was nothing he could say. I wanted the pain to end, and seeing him wasn’t helping. Talking to him would only make matters worse.

“I’m not willing to listen.”

“Terra...”

I wiped away the tears. “Go. Away. And, don’t come back. Please, have some decency and don’t make me ask you again.”

I peered through the hole. With my eyes pressed to the door, I watched as his distorted image disappeared.

And I prayed it would be the last time I ever saw him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Michael

I sat in a hipster coffee shop a few miles from my office and sipped a cup of coffee. Convinced I was never going to love or be loved again, I tried to find a new path to walk upon that would allow me to live a life without Terra, yet maintain some degree of sanity. I had serious doubt I would be able to live in the same area as she did—without her in my life—and not go insane, regardless of where I decided to hide and have my coffee.

“So you think she’s gone forever?” he asked.

“That’s the problem. She isn’t gone. She lives five minutes from here. But, is she out of my life? I’m afraid so.”

“Dude. That sucks.”

“Sure does.”

A thin mop-haired kid who just graduated from high school shared a table with me. The coffee shop was long, narrow, and filled to the seams with people. Two dozen high-top tables lined the wall in a single line, from the entrance to the rear of the facility. Filled with adults, college-aged kids, and teens, the place was an eclectic mixture of what Kansas City’s suburbs had to offer.

He lifted his eyes from his sketch pad and flipped his hair away from his eyes. “No chance of getting her back?”

“I don’t think so. She won’t talk to me.”

“Like, at all?”

I shook my head. “Not at all.”

“Dude. Women can be so hard.”

“Tell me about it.”

He continued to sketch as I drank my coffee, glancing up from time to time, but not really paying attention to anything. He seemed to be taking information in, but in small pieces.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Nineteen,” he responded without looking up. “I started school late. You?”

“Twenty-nine.”

He continued to draw on his pad. “Cool.”

I took my mind to my nineteenth birthday. I had been in Iraq three weeks. I was young and scared, but for the first time in my life I felt that I was a crucial part of something. My existence was necessary. The United States, I was convinced, would be a better place with me fighting for its freedom.

At least that’s what I told myself.

Ten years later, I wondered if that was the case.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He glanced up. “About what?”

“With your life.”

He began to sketch again. “Hard saying. I’ll see what I think after summer’s over.”

“Going to college?”

As he scribbled, he chuckled. “Can’t afford it.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Not anymore.”

“Mind if I ask?”

He carefully placed his pencil beside his pad, ran his fingers through his thick hair and removed an e-cigarette from his leather satchel. After a few long drags he exhaled a huge cloud of sweet-smelling vapor into the air and sighed. “Do you smoke?”

“Sure don’t.”

“Got anything against people who do?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I smoke. And she didn’t like it. We argued about it on and off for like, I don’t know, forever.”

I nodded toward the e-cigarette. “You mean that thing?”

“No,
smoke
. You know, weed.”

I tried to act indifferent. “Oh, yeah.”

“Well, she came over one day and I was smoking, and she just lost it. Said she was done. That was it. She left. Sucks, but what am I going to do?”

He took another long pull on the e-cigarette and blew the vapor in his lap.

“You think about quitting?”

He shook his head and laughed lightly. “Not interested.”

“Didn’t like her that much?”

“I loved her. But she knew I smoked when we hooked up. We used to hang out all the time, and I was always smoking. She just got sick of it, and wanted me to change.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That sucks.”

He shook his head. “Dude.”

He took another puff from his smoke-stick and started sketching again. I considered my situation with Terra, and wondered if she had given me an ultimatum what I would have done. An answer didn’t immediately come to me, and I was initially surprised.

I knew not only that I loved her, but that I loved her wholly and completely. Convincing myself to change who I was—or what I believed in—however, didn’t come easily.

I finished my coffee a few small drinks at a time as I continued to think about Terra, my chosen profession, and what had happened between us. In the end, I decided my misfortune with her was a result of me not being honest from the beginning.

If I had told her what I did for income on the day we met, maybe she would have chosen to simply shake my hand and walk away.

I finished my coffee and stood from my seat convinced we are who we are, and changing isn’t always an option. Acceptance was the key, and for me to attempt to be someone or something I wasn’t would be to truly tell a lie.

If I agreed to change, I wouldn’t be true to myself.

“Thanks for the seat,” I said with a nod.

He glanced up, grinned and tore the sheet of paper from his pad. “Here,” he said, handing me the drawing.

I studied the sketch. A comic-book-style action drawing with two people, one a man, and one a woman, each holding portions of a broken stick. A cloud over the center, between the two ends of the stick, had the word
snap!
in it indicating the stick had just broken in two.

The woman clearly held the largest portion of the stick.

I shook the sheet of paper in my hand and met his gaze. “Isn’t that the truth.”

He cleared the hair from his face and grinned. “Dude.”

I walked away knowing that being without Terra was killing me, but for her to have me in her life, she’d have to accept me for who I was.

If she couldn’t, I’d simply have to die alone.

Alone, and true to myself.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Terra

I decided to go stay with my parents for a while, and hoped my time with them would allow me to recover from my separation with Michael. Being alone was becoming terribly unhealthy. Everything in my home reminded me of him, and although I had no assurance things would be better at my parents’, at least I wouldn’t be alone.

I loaded my suitcase in the car, closed the trunk and turned to go back for the rest of my things.

“Where ya headed?”

I lifted my head.

Cap.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms folded in front of his chest and his feet spread wide, it appeared he wasn’t going to let me by unless I answered. Going through him wasn’t an option.

I fought to swallow and tilted my head toward the bottom of the stairs. My response was just like me. Weak. “Inside.”

He pressed his hands to his hips and shook his head as if disgusted by my response. “No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock. I meant where was you goin’ in the car. And, for what it’s worth, you look like a hammered turd.”

His eyes fell to my feet, then slowly rose the length of my withered frame. As he met my gaze, he cocked an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I couldn’t recall, so I said nothing.

“I’ll take that as an
I
ain’t sure
.”

“Last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

He laughed. “Don’t look like it.”

I wanted him to hug me and tell me I was going to be okay, but he hadn’t offered and I wasn’t sure of the protocol. I tried to smile, but doubt anything noticeable happened.

He turned halfway around. “Get on.”

“Huh?”

“You still speak English, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“
Get on.
Hop on my back, and I’ll take ya up the stairs. You look like you’re gonna collapse.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had a piggyback ride. The thought of it alone made me smile. I climbed on his back and directed him to the door.

He lowered me onto the couch and glanced around the house. “Nice digs.”

“Thank you.”

“Got any bread?”

It seemed like an odd question. “Sure,” I responded. “In the cupboard on the far left.”

“Meat or cheese or peanut butter? You got shit like that here?”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been to the store. I did a mental inventory of what I knew was in the refrigerator. “Uhhm. There’s prosciutto, salami, some cheese...”

“That’ll work. Be back in a minute. You sit right there.”

A few minutes later, and he returned with two sandwiches. “Here, eat this.”

“Oh, I’m not really...”

“You’ll eat that motherfucker, or I’ll poke it down your throat. You pick.”

I laughed. “I’ll eat it.”

“All you got in the fridge is water. You want a bottle or should I pour it in a glass?”

I was surprised he asked. “Glass, please.”

He brought me a glass of water and a napkin, and sat down beside me. Silently, we ate sandwiches together. Seeing him seemed to breathe a little life into me. I’m sure the food helped. When we finished, he carried the dishes to the kitchen and refilled my glass.

He handed me the glass. “You can probably guess why I’m here.”

“Cap, I really don’t want to...”

He cleared his throat. “Stop talkin’. I know it’s rude to say, but I ain’t tryin’ to listen to your horseshit right now. I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen. First of all, Tripp don’t know I’m here. He didn’t ask me to come, and I don’t think either of us need to tell him I did.”

I knew better than to argue, so I agreed. “Okay.”

“The man you met that day in the parking lot at the Starbucks, the one who kicked the shit outta that guy without you askin’ for help. You remember that guy, right?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s Tripp. He’ll step in where other men would turn and run away. It’s just who he is.”

He took a drink of water and fixed his eyes on the far wall. “We got orders to take back this shitty little village from al-Qaeda. They were killin’ civilians and wreakin’ havoc on everyone in this dusty little shit-hole city. So, we’re marching down the street, and it’s as quiet as death. Then, all of a sudden, enemy mortars started comin’ in, and buildings were blowin’ up on either side of us. Gunfire from every fuckin’ direction, smoke so thick you couldn’t breathe, and flames as high as you could see. The whole fuckin’ platoon stopped when it happened.

“Nobody wanted to advance into that shit. We weren’t just walkin’ into hell, we were walkin’ into undeniable death.

“Tripp? That cocksucker kept walkin’. Acted like he didn’t care. Fuckin’ bullets whizzin’ by, bombs going off, and he just keeps goin’. He was like a fuckin’ machine. Every now and again, he’d fire off a round, eliminatin’ one more fuckin’ bad guy from the earth.

“So we’re all standin’ and starin’, knowin’ if we keep goin’ we’re gonna get killed. Tripp? He looks over his shoulder and acts shocked that no one’s behind him. And then he turns around, and
bam!

“He gets shot. Spun him clean around and knocked him to the ground. Hell, I thought he was dead. I ran up there and got him to his feet. He wouldn’t let me call for a corpsman. You know, a doctor. He wanted to keep fightin’. Bullet tore through his arm, but he didn’t care. He insisted that I keep it quiet and let him fight until the city was safe for the civilians to return. And, he did just that. Lost so much blood he damned near died. But we won the battle. When I asked him why he didn’t give up, he said ‘They were killin’ women and children, Cap. We were their only hope.’ You know, I thought about that for a long time. I didn’t know him real well back then, but that? That right there. That’s Tripp. And that was the day I decided I really liked him. You know, what he stood for.”

I had held my breath the entire time he spoke. I wiped away the tears on the back of my hand and inhaled a slow breath, grateful that he was still looking away.

“He always does what he thinks is right, and he never does anything he thinks is wrong. The whole world might be against him, but he don’t fuckin’ care. He’ll stand up against anyone or everyone if he thinks he’s right. Now, I suppose we need to talk about some things that I ain’t really supposed to talk about. But I’m gonna. Wanna know why?”

I wiped away what was left of my tears. He looked right at me and waited. I met his gaze and nodded. “Yes.”

“I see you two together, and it makes me feel good. Tripp ain’t got no family, and he ain’t never really had a girlfriend. People like him don’t need ‘em. They’re a distraction. But he fell head over heels in love with you, and I’ve never seen him happier. Now? When I look in his eyes I see a hole. He’s hollow inside. Like someone stole his soul. It makes me sick thinkin’ you two are perfect for each other, and you’re either too stubborn or too damned dumb to try and work things out.”

I’d heard enough. I wasn’t being stubborn, and I wasn’t dumb. “Wait a minute. I...”

“No, you wait a minute,” he snapped. “You’ll get your chance in a minute. Lemme finish.”

“But...”

He chuckled. “But nothin’.”

I thrust my forearms under my boobs and glared. “Fine,” I huffed.

“You and Tripp met, and he told you he was an investor. Well, he is. He invests in freeing people from tyranny, oppression, abuse and slaughter. He sells weapons under the radar to people, but he don’t sell ’em to everybody. He won’t sell ’em to a drug dealer. Or the cartel. But he will to a group who’s gonna use ’em to fight for somethin’ he believes is good. Might even be illegal, but if Tripp believes in it, so be it. I ain’t gonna lie to ya, he sells ’em by the truckload. But they always go to someone he believes needs ’em and he makes a lot of money doin’ it.”

He had done nothing to change my mind, but I did feel a little better about what Michael was involved in. As far as I was concerned, assault weapons and machine guns were still evil, and I doubted he would say anything to convince me otherwise.

“I’m guessin’ he didn’t tell you about what he did
in detail
because it’s not somethin’ someone like him would normally volunteer, at least not at first. I know him well enough to say at some point he damn sure would have told you. You just happened to find out before he got a chance.”

I cleared my throat harshly. “You guys weren’t going to do anything good, I don’t care what he said. I mean, really? Your faces were painted and you all had machine guns.”

He raised his index finger. “And this is the part where I’m gonna have to tell you somethin’ that I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya. I’m gonna tell you what we were doin’ when you came wandering in. But, I need you to make me a promise. You gotta promise this stays between you and me. Always. It stays here. No matter if he ever brings it up, or whatever. You hear anything of this in the future, you gotta act shocked. Like you didn’t hear it from me. I’m just tellin’ you this because I think it’ll make a difference.”

I knew nothing could change my mind, and I was curious to hear the truth, so I agreed. “Okay. I promise.”

He extended his hand. “Gotta shake on it.”

I shook his hand. “Fine.”

“If you break this promise...”

“I don’t go back on my word,” I snapped. “I’m Italian.”

He coughed out a laugh. “So am I, but don’t tell Tripp.”

I was shocked that he was Italian, but more so that he said not to tell Michael. “Why?”

“Long story,” he said. “You ready for the truth?”

“Please.”

He inhaled a deep breath, exhaled and began. “A well-known figure in this city approached Tripp a few days before the night you saw us. His son had been kidnapped and was bein’ held hostage. They demanded a ransom far beyond what the man could possibly pay, and he was assured if he didn’t pay by the deadline, they’d kill his son. I was at Tripp’s office the night he came in askin’ for help, and we agreed to get his son back.”

I waited for him to say he was joking, but it never came. I’m sure partially due to the lack of sleep I had been getting, and a little more because it was obvious he wasn’t kidding, I stared back at him in complete shock.

“We were runnin’ against the clock. That’s why he couldn’t take the time to explain. I guess I’ll tell you the rest of it, now that I started.”

His eyes fell to his lap and he raked his fingers through his closely-cropped hair. After a heavy sigh, he met my gaze.

“We got to the guy, and they had a bomb strapped to his neck. A bomb big enough to blow all of us to kingdom come. Now, there ain’t a whole bunch of fuckers that’d volunteer to rescue a kidnap victim. And, there’s a lot less that’d do it up against the crazy fuckers we was up against. But to find someone who’d take the risk and try and defuse the bomb? Yeah, that’s a tough one.”

I felt like I had swallowed a handful of sand. My throat was tight, my mouth was dry and my heart was racing. I remembered I had a glass of water, and took a drink. “What happened? The man’s son died, didn’t he?”

“Sure didn’t. Tripp made us all seek shelter, and he insisted he stay and help defuse the bomb. Took the kid home with him, got him cleaned up, gave him one of his suits and delivered him to his father.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped. I glanced down at my shaking hands. I had run through many scenarios of what might have been going on that night, and I never would have dreamed it was anything like what Cap had described.

“Now. The guns you got mad about? The machine guns, as you call ‘em? Those very guns are what saved all of us, that kid included, from bein’ killed on that night.”

It was almost too much to comprehend. I wondered who the boy was, and who the man was. A senator, judge or congressman, I supposed. I had so many questions. “Oh my God, this is so crazy,” I said excitedly. “I have a ton of questions.”

“If it’s about that night, the answer’s no. I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you about that night. Not one word of it was a lie, and I didn’t hold anything back. But, we’re done talkin’ about it. It’ll never be discussed again.”

“But...”

“No buts about it. I got one more thing to say, and I’m leavin’.”

He stood, turned around, and folded his arms in front of his massive chest. “Tripp’s parents died when he was a kid. Grew up without a family. But he didn’t give up. As an eighteen-year-old kid he went to war. Two countries, a million enemies, and a couple of gunshot wounds later, he returned. But it didn’t kill him. Ten fuckin’ years of hell. I’ve seen him in places no one in his right mind would go, and against enemies no man would ever want to fight. But he lived through it all. And then, along comes this little Italian gal.

“He loves ya, Terra. More than he probably loves himself. And you? You bein’ here? After all he’s lived through, you’re killin’ him. He’s dyin’ right now. I can see it. And seein’ it’s killin’ me.”

My eyes began to well with tears.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

“I...I do.”

“Go tell him,” he said.

And he walked away.

Loving Michael was easy. All I had to do was exist.

Being without him in my life, however, was impossible.

“Cap!” I shouted.

He was at the front door and just about to walk outside. He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Can you help me carry my stuff back inside?”